by J. Judkins
Angel shifted in her chair. “That’s only true in the literal sense.”
“I’m probably going to regret asking this, but what does that mean?”
“Whenever I go to the bathroom, I close the door and wait several minutes. Then I flush the toilet, wash my hands, and leave.”
Kim hadn’t been aware of this. “Food and water?”
“I partake in both, but I’m uncertain if I truly need either one. I don’t ignore it when it’s available, though.”
“What about sleeping? I’ve seen you sleep.”
“I enjoy sleeping with you.”
Kim’s face heated. “I didn’t mean sexually.”
“To clarify, each night, I look forward to sleeping with you in the same bed.”
“Got it.”
“However, your previous assertion was also correct. I enjoy sleeping with you sexually.” Her grin widened. “That’s one of my—”
“My point is—”
“I enjoy it a lot.”
“My point is, you’re not like her. The android-puppet theory might work in her case, but how does that make sense as it relates to you? Are you suggesting your bosses decided one day that they didn’t like you and cut the link?”
“I can’t speak as to why they might have done it, but why wouldn’t it be possible?”
“Because a body can’t function without a mind to guide it. How are you still talking and breathing?”
“Breathing is more of a habit.”
“Not the point! If your body is some sort of puppet avatar, it should have fallen over in a lifeless heap the moment they severed the connection. Her theory doesn’t work with you.”
“Naomi didn’t understand it, either.”
“I’m not even sure how it works in her case,” Kim said. “If one of them decides to go independent, and they cut the connection, they’d be leaving their enemies a fully intact and conveniently lifeless android, chocked full of all sorts of advanced alien technology for them to take apart and study. How does that make any sense?”
“Better than leaving their potential enemies a disloyal servant, ready and willing to betray their own kind.”
“Good point,” Kim admitted. She sipped at her orange juice. “What else did you talk about?”
“We talked of our mutual need to belong. About the need for a purpose in our lives.”
Kim looked to the floor. The refrigerator. The countertop, which she idly noted needed cleaning. Anywhere but at Angel. Her words troubled her more than she cared to admit. A “need for a purpose” suggested that Angel might be looking for fulfillment beyond what domestic life with her could provide.
Surely Angel isn’t still thinking about . . .
“Is something wrong?” Angel asked.
Kim waved a hand, trying to control her racing thoughts. “No. Nothing’s wrong. Sorry. I was thinking about . . . something else.”
Angel isn’t going to leave me. Especially not after last night. Stop worrying about it. She’s finished trying to find out more about herself.
“I believe I should clarify regarding Naomi’s fears,” Angel said. “Regardless of her castoff avatar body, Naomi herself would still be wherever her physical body happened to be. She fears her personality being rewritten at the source, not the threat of someone cutting the link.”
“That does sound pretty horrible.” Kim shuddered at the thought. “We appreciate your dedication and years of service, but remember back in the day, when you were young, malleable, and innocent? You’re going back to being that person again. Forget the twenty-some-odd years in between. We’re going to pretend they didn’t happen. Literally, forget them.”
“Perhaps my memory loss isn’t memory loss at all.” Angel touched a hand to her chest. “This body spent years under the care of Dr. Harrison. I could be the result of Blackgate’s artificial intelligence gaming system personalities after they took possession of the empty shell the aliens left behind.”
Kim felt a chill running down her spine. That wasn’t possible. Was it?
Angel took note of Kim’s expression. “Is this what you believe? Do you think I’m artificial? Nothing more than a machine?”
“I don’t think you are,” Kim answered carefully, “but I also don’t think that it matters.”
Angel gave her a dubious look.
“Some people can’t wrap their heads around the possibility, but I’d argue that a truly advanced artificial intelligence would be another form of life and worth protecting. People think it simply isn’t possible for a machine-based intelligence to have free will. I don’t agree with that. Why wouldn’t a sufficiently advanced form of technology be able to replicate or improve upon the things an organic brain could do?”
The silence was broken only by the central air heating system switching itself on.
“Is this really bothering you?” Kim asked.
“A little,” Angel said. “I don’t like thinking I could be artificial.”
“You’re not.”
Multi-orgasmic.
Shut up.
“Would you like me to test you?”
Angel looked surprised. “There’s a test?”
“From the movie Blade Runner. It’s a classic. Don’t worry about smoking; it won’t affect the test.”
Angel now looked confused as well as surprised.
Kim cleared her throat. “It’s your birthday, and someone gives you a calfskin wallet. How do you react?”
“Please clarify. Is the new wallet better than the one I have?”
“Better, how?”
“Is it considered to be of higher quality? Will I be able to put more things in it?”
Kim shrugged. “Sure. Why not?”
“Then I’d keep it.”
“Interesting. An ordinary human might feel sorry for the calf.”
“What calf?”
“The calf that died in order to make the wallet?”
“Considering the wallet was meant as a birthday gift, I believe I’d be more interested in discovering the true date of my birthday.”
“Fair enough. Next question. You're in a desert, walking along in the sand, when you see a tortoise. The tortoise lays on its back, belly baking in the hot sun, beating its legs, trying to turn itself over. But it can't. Not without your help. But you're not helping. Why is that?”
“I wouldn’t want the eagle to starve.”
“Okay, that’s new. What eagle?”
“When eagles hunt, they’re known to drop tortoises from great heights to split open their shells. I admit, this is making an assumption that the tortoise didn’t fall onto its back on its own.”
“Okay. That’s a good answer. Wouldn’t want the eagle to starve. Got it.”
“Next question?”
“A little boy shows you his butterfly collection plus the killing jar. What do you do?”
“Are these questions meant for me to contemplate how animals serve a far greater purpose in death than they do in life?”
“They’re meant to evoke an emotional response; although, I’ve got to admit, I’ve never really thought of it that way before.”
“Next?”
Kim decided to skip ahead. The “How do you feel about your mother?” question hadn’t ended well for the interviewer in the film. “You’re reading a magazine and come across a full-page nude photo of a girl.”
“Is the girl cute?”
Kim rolled her eyes. “Angel . . .”
“Fine.” Angel heaved a dramatic sigh and leaned back, not seeming to care one whit that this resulted in her shirt falling completely open. “To answer, I’d mentally compare her naked body to yours, then evaluate—”
“Right.” Kim’s chair scraped the floor as she pushed it back and stood up. “I think we’re done here.”
“How did I do? Did you discover anything useful?”
“We’ve conclusively proven that you’ve never seen Blade Runner. Other than that? Nothing.”
What else? Kim knew
for a fact that Angel wasn’t vulnerable to Harry Mudd’s “shut up” phrase from the original Star Trek. A verbal shut-down would have been too great a vulnerability. Any other mad scientist geek might have written it in, but that hadn’t been Dr. Harrison’s style. He’d wanted his androids self-aware, free, and indistinguishable from humanity. Potential robot uprisings be damned.
“Let’s go back to what Naomi said,” Kim said. “I’m convinced she’s wrong about you. For starters, if you were part of a previous expedition, why didn’t she recognize you?”
“Perhaps that information was erased. Or perhaps she didn’t have access to it.”
Kim held up two fingers, determined not to be sidetracked. “Second point. You’ve always been able to read books, but when we found that thing we found, you couldn’t make sense of the alien writing. Why not? Reading skills don’t selectively vanish, not even with amnesia. How could you read and understand English, but not your native language?”
“Perhaps I learned English from the artificial intelligence tenants living rent-free in my head, as you describe them?”
“Also a valid point,” Kim conceded. “Can you explain how Naomi’s escaped puppet theory applies to you?”
“No. It doesn’t make sense to her, either.”
“Bottom line is, I don’t think you’re one of them.” Kim’s grin got away from her. “Sorry, Angel. They may be androids, but they’re not your androids. These aren’t the droids you’re looking for.”
“Do you honestly believe that? Or were you manipulating the conversation in order to use that joke?”
“Mostly the second,” Kim admitted. “Normally, when people think of androids, they’re thinking robots, with all the typical robot limitations. Emotionless machines designed to pass for human, that sort of thing. That they’re not really alive.
“But these are aliens, Angel! Who’s to say an advanced civilization can’t custom make their own population if they feel like it? Tweaking the genetic code from the ground up, without the randomness of sexual reproduction?”
Kim was on her feet, unable to contain herself. “Imagine an entire civilization designed specifically for longevity, or engineered to be able to withstand extremes of heat, cold, disease, and radiation. They could live anywhere, not just on habitable planets in a star system’s Goldilocks zone. That’s probably what the aliens actually are, or at least, close to it. They certainly wouldn’t be emotionless robots surrounded by living tissue.”
Angel seemed almost shaken. “That’s actually frighteningly similar to what Naomi told me. She told me that their people are designed and created, rather than born.”
“My point is, someone wanted you as perfect as could be. If you are one of them, then what if they made you so perfect that, even after they cut the link, you started living your own life?”
Apparently, this was exactly the right thing to say. Angel hugged Kim’s head to her sizeable chest. “Thank you.”
Kim’s heartbeat spiked. Having her head engulfed by breasts wasn’t leaving her much room for oxygen, but she quickly discovered that she wasn’t at all adverse to the experience.
“You need to come with me,” Angel said. Or rather, seemed to say. Her voice came through heavily muffled. “—talk . . . Naomi . . . day.”
The hug ended. Kim gasped for air.
Angel gave her a curious look. “Are you okay?”
“Haah,” Kim said. She held up one finger in a silent plea for time.
“What?”
“Yeah.” Kim greedily sucked in oxygen. “I’m good. Did you say . . . something else . . . about Naomi?”
“I need to talk to her once more,” Angel said, “but this time, you’re coming with me. My project is finished. Assuming I’m successful, you and I should know everything there is to know about Naomi and her people before long.”
Kim’s stomach tightened as the old fear flared up again.
Okay, this is getting ridiculous. Get over it, Kimmie! Angel’s not interested in her old life, so you really need to stop worrying about it. She only wants to talk to Naomi because she’s hoping to save the world. It isn’t anything bigger than that.
Angel seemed to take note of Kim’s reaction. “There’s no need to be afraid.”
“I’m not afraid,” Kim said at once, irritated at being read so easily. Why did Angel always assume the thought of losing her was her absolute worst fear?
Wait . . .
Her worst fear. Why did that sound familiar?
Then it clicked. Kim’s blood ran cold.
Angel had hinted that her secret mission had something to do with Kim’s worst fear. Now, it made sense. The nameless fear had been a reference to Kim’s fear of losing Angel. Her own words confirmed it.
Angel hadn’t abandoned her search for self-discovery. She intended to go through with it!
Chapter Thirty-Six
Kim reached out a hand to steady herself. It couldn’t be true. Angel wasn’t going to leave her. Surely she was overreacting, seeing potential for disaster when there was none to be found. This wasn’t the time to panic. Angel had even said not to be afraid.
But the inner voices refused to be silenced. You were in a great mood this morning. Do you remember what killed it? It was the thought of Angel not having a reason to marry you anymore!
It all came back to her then. When Kim had listed her reasons, she’d forgotten the most important reason of all: a demonstration of love Angel couldn’t deny. Making love to Angel was supposed to ensure that she would stay by her side and never, ever want to leave her.
If theirs were a sappy storybook romance, shouldn’t loving Angel be enough to compel her to stay?
In a storybook romance, it might.
But theirs wasn’t a storybook romance.
Kim knew enough about the subject to know certain things were to be expected. Unless a romance was a sanitized, safe-for-the-entire-family story, the hero would eventually sleep with the romantic interest. That much was certain. It might take more than half the story, but it would happen eventually. Everything would end in a happily ever after. That was the established pattern.
But not in the tragic romance. Those were notably different. In those, after their night of passion, the hero moved on. Their separation might be done out of duty, or because of conflicting loyalties, or even because the hero got him or herself killed. But the end result was always the same. Separation. The love of their life would be left behind, and both would end up alone. Neither party would get their happily ever after. This was the defining characteristic of what made the tragic story tragic.
Kim felt sick to her stomach. Making love to Angel had been one of the best nights of her life. Had it also been a mistake? Did it mark the beginning of the end? Angel had now accomplished everything she’d set out to do. Nothing remained to keep her here. Theirs was the definition of a tragic romance.
By her own actions, Kim had effectively taken marriage off the table. She didn’t even have the safety net of the pseudo-engagement to fall back on anymore.
All she’d accomplished last night was setting herself up for a broken heart.
Did Angel intend to leave her behind?
Kim’s fists clenched as she drew on a reserve of strength she didn’t know she had.
No.
No, that wasn’t true!
Angel might be a hopeless romantic through and through, but their relationship was not a tragic romance! Hadn’t Angel said not to be afraid? To trust her? Kim had lost count of how many times Angel had told her she loved her, how often she’d done her best to reassure her that she’d never, ever leave her.
Their relationship had changed last night. But for the better. It had become stronger.
Kim couldn’t deny being a little insecure. Angel was an amazing woman, and Kim felt lucky to have her. Perhaps she would always be afraid of losing her.
But it was past time she trusted Angel at her word.
Kim rose to her feet and lifted her eyes to the heave
ns, striking a majestic pose. I’m not giving up on Angel. I’m done being afraid. I’m going to trust her, no matter what.
“That’s good to know,” Angel said. “Care to tell me what you’re talking about?”
Kim froze in place. “I . . . I didn’t mean to say that out loud.” She held her chin up higher and corrected her stance. “What I meant to say is, if you want to talk to Naomi, then that’s fine by me.”
“Thank you. This should be the last time. I still need to deliver my ultimatum and stage our final confrontation.”
Kim dropped out of the pose. “Okay, I think I’ve been missing something. Final what? What exactly have you been doing?”
“I’ve been researching Ravenwood.” Angel straightened and folded her hands behind her back, which did nothing to aid Kim’s concentration. “Five years ago, the entire city was abandoned due to wide-scale flooding. The local government decided it would be more cost-effective to relocate its citizens and businesses elsewhere than it would be to drain the water and rebuild anew. It now stands deserted. Some entrepreneurs decided—”
“Wait a moment, I think I remember hearing about this!” Kim exclaimed. “It was all over the news. After the flood, they wanted to turn the place into a lakeside tourist attraction, or something.”
“I’m under the impression that the aliens wish to modify the city without anyone becoming aware of it. I’ve seen the new construction projects firsthand.”
“What sort of projects?”
Angel stepped to one side and swept her arm in a grand gesture. “Would you care to come with me to see for yourself?”
Chapter Thirty-Seven
The drive back to Brookings Pharmaceutical was a quiet one. Kim was still full of questions, but had decided not to ask them. It seemed certain that Angel had a plan to resolve Naomi’s problems and become her friend, but that was all she knew. And Kim was going to trust her.
That being said, it still bothered her that Angel had yet to admit that she intended to exploit Naomi’s friendship to discover more about herself. Kim tried not to think about it. Surely Angel had her reasons. Let her keep those reasons to herself, if she wanted. Keeping secrets didn’t mean Angel didn’t trust her. It just meant she didn’t want to spoil the surprise. Her secrets were probably for harmless, non-nefarious reasons, anyway.
